


At The Right Time

by Winchesterlovr0508



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mechanic!Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stubborn Dean Winchester, Tattooed Castiel (Supernatural), Tattooed Dean Winchester, artist!castiel, soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesterlovr0508/pseuds/Winchesterlovr0508
Summary: Every person is born with a date on their wrist. The day they will encounter their soulmate. This is one story.Dean doesn’t believe in soulmates. Not after what happened to his parents. He gets a tattoo to cover the date on his arm that’s been haunting him for years. How could a date you were born with possibly lead you to the person you were meant to spend your life with? Until he sees him...
Relationships: Destiel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 274
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

One: 

Dean gazed at the fresh black ink on his wrist. He refused to look at that stupid date any longer. He didn’t care about finding his _soulmate_. What good had it done for his parents? Not a damn thing, his dad, John, was a cheating alcoholic jackass and it did nothing but cause his mom, Mary, pain. It had taken him a year to find a tattoo shop willing to cover up the date but he finally found one and could forget about his friggen destiny. 

As he paid the artist, Dean took one last look at the Celtic knot with an arrow going through it before pulling his leather jacket on. _Much better. No more date. No more destiny. No more soulmate._ He strolled out of the shop and got into the driver's seat of his sleek obsidian black 1967 Chevy Impala, Baby, and drove to work. 

Singer’s Auto was a small repair shop run by Dean’s uncle, Bobby. It wasn’t much, but Dean loved the honest work. He had spent too many years scamming drunk idiots in the bars for his dad to place yet another shitty bet in a poker game. This way, while Dean was wrenching on cars, he could pay his little brother, Sam's way through college. Dean always insisted that his kid brother was going places and now Sammy was heading to Stanford to become a lawyer. 

Dean reached for a quarter socket wrench while fixing the carburetor on a sweet Shelby Mustang that belonged to his mom’s boyfriend, Arthur, but Dean just called him Ketch. Ever since his pops died, Dean had seen Mary spend more time with Ketch and even though he looked like a generic James Bond, she seemed to be happy. Dean had been waiting his whole life to see his mom happy and he knew that Ketch’s soulmate had died in a car accident, so when they announced that they were official Dean was excited for the couple. 

The gruff voice of his uncle Bobby cut through Dean’s concentration. “What the hell is that boy!?” He entered the garage in his normal oil stained overalls and a greasy trucker hat so low it almost covered his kind eyes. Dean knew when it came to family, Bobby was all bark and no bite, but that didn’t stop the man from grasping Dean’s wrist and taking a look at his new tattoo. “You covered your mark? You drunk or just an idjit boy?”

Dean took his hand back and waved Bobby off. “Save it old man. I don’t wanna hear it.” He began to turn his focus back to the carburetor but Bobby wasn’t finished. 

“Well boo hoo princess, you’re gonna hear it. Do you know how important that date scribbled on your arm is? If I hadn’t had it, I would’ve never met your Aunt Ellen.” 

Dean wished his aunt was here now. She always told the cranky old man to shut it and he listened. But Dean was stuck fighting his own battles since Ellen was tending the bar at The Roadhouse. “Is that why you met Ellen?” he shot back, “Or could you two have met regardless of a couple of stupid numbers on your arm? This Mark ain’t magical Bobby, it’s just some sick matchmaking experiment God is playing or something. Now can I finish this carburetor now or do you wanna keep flapping your gums like we’re in high school?”

Bobby huffed at Dean’s comment, “When you meet them, I expect an apology ya little shit.” 

As he was walking away Dean uttered, “Cranky old bastard.” and threw his uncle a beer. 

“I heard that ya idjit!” Bobby called but gave a soft smile as he began to start taking apart a beat up 1994 Ford Ranger that had definitely seen better days. 

The day continued as normal, but Dean knew in the back of his mind that Bobby wasn’t going to drop the subject of his new tattoo. The old man was a traditionalist. Dean figured he would be too if he met someone as amazing as his Aunt Ellen. He winced at the thought of her finding out. It could go one of two ways, either she’d accept Dean’s perfectly practical decision to not allow his life to be ruled by a date, or she’d smack him so hard in the back of the head his teeth would clack together. Ellen was more progressive than Bobby but she was still old school, and none of them had ever heard of doing something this drastic before. 

Dean walked through the door of his small loft at almost midnight. He pulled off his greasy work clothes and stepped into the shower. As the hot water cascaded down his back, Dean took the time to examine his tattoo. It wasn’t that he regretted covering up his mark, but he grew sad at the thought that he may never find the _right _one. In Dean’s mind, no mark that he had been born with could tell him who he was meant to spend his life with. He thought he had found his soulmate when he was with Lisa five years ago. He had been prepared to ask her to marry him, until he came home and found her waiting at the kitchen table with her bags packed. As it turned out, she had met her soulmate and it wasn’t Dean. It was all bullshit to him. Besides, what if he came across someone with the same date but they weren’t the one? He often wondered if that’s what happened to his parents. Did they just happen to have the same date but they weren’t meant for each other? What kind of sick joke was that? No, Dean thought as he began to scrub the grime off his body, _I’d rather be alone than be some sick fanboy’s entertainment. No soulmate is better than the wrong soulmate._

He stepped out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around his waist, and laid on his queen sized bed. Dean shut his eyes the moment his head hit the pillow and was plagued with a horrible dream. 

_He was alone in a dark room. It was so dark Dean couldn’t even see the walls, but he felt the expansiveness and cold surrounding him. “Hello?” he tried calling out yet there was no answer. He took a step forward and a blinding white light emitted from his wrist. Dean had to turn away in fear he’d go blind. Once the light died down, Dean blinked the spots from his eyes and gazed at his wrist. His tattoo was gone. No scarring, no trace of what had once been there. All that was left was his mark. His date. Today’s date. _

_Suddenly the room was filled with people. Men and women, all with the same date. They began rushing him throwing questions like ‘Will you marry me?’ or ‘Are you him?’ or saying things like, ‘It’s destiny Dean.’_

_Dean tried backing away but quickly realized he was surrounded. The once vast space had become small and crowded. There must’ve been hundreds of people swarming him. None of the strangers were focused on each other. All eyes were on Dean like he was some trophy they needed to win or they would be destined to a life of misery and despair. Dean tried pushing his way through the mob and felt stuck. He looked down and saw hands grasping at his feet, trying to pull him down. _

_“No.” Dean uttered to himself, then roared it out to the crowd, “No!” He tried explaining that it wasn’t him they wanted. That this was all a mistake. But his cries fell on deaf ears. The mob could only focus on one thing, their soulmate. Panic began rising in his chest as he begun punching and pushing the ravenous strangers, trying to break free. He tried stomping his feet free but more hands kept coming. “Noooo!” was the last thing he screamed before the crowd began tearing him to shreds, desperate for a piece of him. _

Dean woke covered in sweat and his heart racing. He looked down to examine his body, no scratches or tears. He touched his face and realized it was wet with tears. Nervously, Dean slowly glanced down at his wrist before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. No mark, his tattoo was still there.


	2. Chapter 2

Two:

A few days had passed and Dean was still shaken by his nightmare. He walked down the street to his favorite coffee shop _Men of Brews_ to clear his head before another long shift at the shop. As soon as he opened the door, the smell of coffee beans and pastries wafted through the air. A familiar voice called from the register, Jo, his favorite barista and Ellen’s daughter greeted him. “You’re in early this morning.” Jo had sunshine colored hair and a smile that warmed the coldest rooms and Dean felt himself relax when he saw her. 

He waved and waited in line, taking in his surroundings. Dean saw the sheriff, Jody, enjoying her morning cup of joe before her shift began like every other morning. He noticed all the other regulars he saw every morning before work, the twins on the couches blogging and instagramming their life away like usual, a small blonde girl concentrating on her camera, and of course, the guy in the corner scribbling away in a sketchbook. The man in the corner always made Dean curious, of all the customers that came and went, Dean had never seen the man’s face but he noticed his messy black hair as if the comb hadn’t been invented yet. He was always buried nose deep in some book or his laptop, if he wasn’t doing that, he was sketching in his book or just gazing out the window as if in deep thought. He didn’t know the man but he sat at the same corner table every day. Dean nicknamed him corner guy. 

Dean raised his head to the sky and exhaled a deep breath as the line slowly inched forward. He did the best he could to push the images from his dream away as he neared the counter. “Hey Jo, I’ll have the usual.”

Jo looked him up and down and leaned in close, “No offense Dean but, you look like hammered shit.” Dean laughed at her blunt comment a little too loudly and felt eyes looking at him. He cleared his throat and patiently waited for his coffee and powdered donut to go but felt someone’s eyes lingering on him. He looked around the shop but didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Jody was walking out the door, the twins were still attached at the hip and to their phones, he turned to the girl with the camera and saw she was fixated with the lens on her camera. Dean’s eyes drifted to corner guy, nope, he was still sketching away._ Ok cool, so now I’m going crazy. _He paid Jo and said goodbye, grabbing order and walked back outside. 

Just as the door closed behind him, Dean’s phone rang. When he answered he was met with Bobby’s gruff voice, “You coming in today or what slacker?” _Shit _he thought as he glanced at the time, _today’s gonna suck. _Dean quickly apologized to Bobby and hung up. Within ten minutes Dean walked into the shop, ready to work. Bobby tossed him a rag, “Don’t forget about dinner tonight princess. Your aunt wants to talk to you.” _Fuck me! I should’ve stayed home. _Dean nodded and got to work, preparing himself for the smack in the head he was sure he’d get later. 

>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Dean looked around the table while his family ate dinner. Jo and Ellen we’re talking about business at _The Roadhouse _and Bobby was inhaling his food as he listened to their conversation, only stopping to give a slight nod or grunt here and there. Dean looked at the empty chair next to him and wondered if Sam would come home from Stanford on his Thanksgiving break. 

He hadn’t realized that the conversation around the table stopped until he noticed everyone was looking at him. “What?” he asked. 

Ellen spoke from the head of the table. “Come on, let's see it.” Her expression told Dean not to argue. He complied and rolled up his sleeve, showing her the Celtic knot and arrow right in the place his date should’ve been. She didn’t scream, she didn’t roll her eyes, she remained calm and expressionless. In other words, Dean was in deep shit. “Why don’t y’all take your food out on the porch?” The rest of the table quietly got up and left them, Ellen’s eyes never left Dean’s. _I’m fucking dead,_ he thought. She patted the seat next to hers and Dean came over, waiting to be strangled but instead his aunt stayed calm and asked, “Why?” 

Dean had thought about the hundreds of possibilities this conversation would have happened but he still hadn’t expected that. He started turning his iron and onyx ring on his middle finger, something he often did when he was nervous. “I’m not like John,” he said, suddenly interested in the grain of the wood table. Ellen didn’t respond, waiting for Dean to continue. “I’m not like Mom either. It’s not that I don’t _want _to be happy, El. I do, honest. But… I don’t think something like who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with can be determined before you’re even born. I want to find the one on my own, I want to make my own destiny. Is that so bad?” He hadn’t realized that tears began welling in his eyes. 

Ellen examined Dean for a few moments before speaking. She put her hand on his shoulder and spoke in a calming, motherly voice that made Dean feel like everything would turn out ok. “It’s not bad baby, matter of fact, I almost did something like that when I was your age.” Dean looked at her with wide eyes and she laughed, instantly cutting through the tension in the room. “You think a young me would want some stupid date on my arm telling me when I’m going to fall in love? I had an appointment and everything, hell I never looked at that damned mark. But as I was walking down the street to the shop I ran into some dumbass on the sidewalk. And then the craziest thing happened…” Dean leaned forward, hanging on every word his aunt was saying. “My arm burned, well, maybe not burn but it got warm._ Really _warm. My mark was _glowing._ I damn near had a heart attack right there and then I saw him. Some bumbling idiot in a ratty old t shirt and a greasy trucker hat.”

Bobby chimed in from the front porch, “I heard that woman! I look good in this hat damnit!” 

Ellen and Dean laughed, but Dean also realized that was the first time he had heard about his aunt and uncle meeting. “See Dean, there’s a secret to these marks,” Ellen told him, “nothing is set in stone kid. The date only opens possibilities that weren’t there before. Could it have been coincidence that I ran into your uncle on that particular day? Yeah. Could it have been fate or destiny or whatever the hippies wanna call it? Yeah, I guess it could’ve been that too. But nobody and _nothing_ can make you fall in love Dean. Your dad sucked, but your mom stayed. But just because you have that mark doesn’t mean you have to_ be _them. Just… keep an open mind ok?”

Dean felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He was sure he wasn’t going to make it out of this dinner without some form of bodily harm and knowing his aunt had the same feelings as he did once upon a time. “Thanks El, and yeah I promise.”

Ellen gave him a warm smile and then Dean felt her hand smack him on the back of the head. “Good, now don’t do stupid shit again without talking to me first.” 

Dean rubbed his head where he got his personal wake up call, “Got it She-Hulk. Can we eat some pie now?” She smiled and they went on the porch to join the rest of their family. As Dean watched his Uncle Bobby greet his aunt with a loving peck on the cheek, he couldn’t help but think that_ if _he did have a soulmate out there somewhere, that _this _is how he wanted them to be. _Maybe, _he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Three:

Dean walked into the coffee shop, annoyed at the nightmare that had been plaguing him for days now. Strangers clawing at him trying to get a piece of their soulmate but this time, before he went under he saw his father, John Winchester, standing over him as Dean was being torn to shreds._ Like father, son boy. Can’t fight fate. _

The words repeated in his mind over and over that morning, causing Dean to slam his fist through the mirror when he stepped out of the shower. Jo looked at his now bandaged hand and began to ask about it. Dean waved his hand to stop her and asked for his usual. She didn’t seem to like being dismissed but Dean didn’t want to think about his dream, or his father. 

He glanced around the room at the regulars, his eyes fixed on corner guy. Dean leaned over the counter and asked Jo, his eyes never leaving the man sketching away, “Hey, what’s that guy’s deal anyways?”

She gave a soft smile, “He comes in every morning. Orders the same thing, cherry danish and an americano. He draws every morning.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that part I got. Ever find out_ what_ he’s drawing?”

A stray strand of golden hair fell over her face as she eyed Dean suspiciously, “Everything. Everyone. Sometimes he draws the customers or us behind the counter. Other times, he stares out at the people walking by and sketches them. He’s really_ good_.” 

Dean grabbed his muffin and coffee and scoffed, “Weird. See ya tomorrow Jojo.” As Jo was telling Dean for the hundredth time that she _hated_ that nickname, he began to walk out the door but a jolt of curiosity stopped him. 

He found himself striding over to the man in the corner and peered over his shoulder. He saw a black and white sketch of Jo behind the counter, smiling. It wasn’t a posed sketch, it somehow captured Jo’s very essence. The slight crinkle that formed around her eyes when she laughed, the sun coming in from the window and catching in her ponytail. The drawing didn’t even have color yet and Dean felt the mini Jo would jump off the page. 

“Can I help you?” Corner guy had a deep voice that Dean hadn’t expected. He never looked up from his work so Dean was forced to talk to the back of his head. 

“Uhh yeah sorry. It’s just…”_ since when do I get nervous?_ “I see you in here every day and I got curious. Jo said you drew people. Looks really good, you an artist or something?” Dean made a mental note to slam his head into the nearest wall for that stupid question. “Anyway… I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. Jo’s my cousin.”_ Why did you just say that!? Change of plans: don’t smash your head into a wall. Just jump off a building. _

Corner guy set his pencil down, he gazed up at Dean with the purest blue eyes he had ever seen. “Hello Dean. I’m Castiel.” Dean was about to reach to shake Castiel’s hand when he felt several things at once. He felt a jolt of electricity run through his body as he saw Castiel’s startling cerulean blue eyes, then his arm began to get warm. Like _really warm._ It almost burned._ Just like Ellen said. Shit! _Dean glanced down at his forearm and saw a slight glow under the sleeve of his flannel. He barely noticed Castiel extended his hand to shake Dean’s and then retracted it away looking down at his tattooed arms as well. As Dean pulled up his sleeve he felt one last thing. Panic. 

The ink from his tattoo had seemingly melted away revealing a negative set of numbers. _10-24-2019. No. _He thought, _not now. This shouldn’t be happening._ Dean lost grip of his coffee and it splashed to the ground. He looked at Castiel’s piercing blue eyes again and felt his face get warm. Without a word, Dean rushed out the door and down the sidewalk. Trying to put as much distance between him and the shop as possible before he dared to take a breath. Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and texted his uncle. 

** _ Sick. Can’t come in today. Sorry. _ **

Before Bobby could text a response, Dean shut off his phone and rushed back to his apartment. He stepped into the shower for the second time this morning and tried scrubbing away the date that was now clearer than ever. After his arm was raw and bleeding and the water had run cold, Dean slumped onto his bed feeling defeated. He had tried so hard to run from fate and in a split second it had smacked him in the face like a brick. After what felt like an eternity of staring at the ceiling, Dean finally drifted off into an uneasy slumber. He expected to have to relive the same nightmare he’d had every night, but instead he dreamed of blue eyes and beautiful sketches. 

>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_ Dean awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door. He sleepily walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Don’t try and play dumb boy! Open up!” _Shit! _Dean’s Uncle Bobby looked pissed to say the least. He briefly considered not opening the door and waiting the old man out, but his experiences from high school told Dean to not even bother trying. Bobby didn’t give up and he knew how to pick a lock. 

Dean let out a heavy sigh and opened the door. “Ok, I lied, I’m not sick. But can we not do this today Bobby? I just… I can’t do it today.”

His uncle ignored him and pointed to the sofa, “Sit!” he ordered. Dean did what he was told. He knew that when Bobby had his_ dad pants, _as Dean called them, on that there was no point in arguing. Bobby sat on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of Dean and stared him down for a few moments. “So,” he began, “it happened.” Dean hadn’t realized how much emotion he was holding in until his uncle’s face softened, he put his head in his hands and began to cry. After Dean recounted his nightmares and the events at the coffee shop this morning, he took a deep breath and finally met his uncle’s gaze. Bobby studied him for a beat and then placed his calloused hand on Dean’s knee. “I’ll gonna tell you a story sport. A story that I’ve never even told your aunt, but I think ya need to hear it.”

Dean was shocked to find out that Bobby still kept secrets from Aunt Ellen but he nodded and listened. Bobby took a deep breath as if whatever memory he was recalling had been buried under years of scrap metal. “My parents were like yours Dean. My pops was a _mean _asshole who loved his whiskey more than he loved my ma. Sure, some days were good and we seemed like the American dream family, but other days he’d come home from the tavern just drunk as ever.” The old man seemed to age as he shuddered at the memories. “He’d hit her ya know. My ma. Ma did her best to try and keep me scarce on those nights but the Sonofabitch demanded we eat dinner as a family. I used to hate my mark just like you boy. I didn’t want to be like my pops, and I didn’t want a wife or kid I could mess up either. I was on my way to enlist when I bumped into El. I figured, I could go to some jungle or desert and get blasted to kingdom come, no problem. But fate,” he smiled and Dean could’ve sworn his uncle got visibly lighter. “Fate had a different idea. I met your aunt and then we had Jo. Imagine my terror finding out I had a daughter. Then it wasn’t long before I took you and your brother under my wing. I saw how your dad was getting, I didn’t want that life for you and Sam. Turned out you boys were great hunters and you could turn a wrench.” He laughed and Dean began to smile, he couldn’t imagine a life without his Aunt and Uncle or Jo in it. They were more family to him than his parents had ever been, it was Bobby who had taught Dean how to change his first serpentine belt. 

“Anyhow,” he patted his grease stained hand on Dean’s knee and smiled softly as he got up from the table, “can’t hurt to see where this whole destiny thing goes can it sport?” 

Dean walked him to the door, “Thanks old man. Hey tell Jo I’m sorry will ya?”

Bobby grunted, “Balls no. You gotta take that up with her. And from what I hear, you’re in deep shit ya idjit.” He smiled widely and made his leave. 

After Bobby left, Dean felt lighter. It felt good to let out all his feelings and to know that despite the similar upbringing his uncle had, there was still hope. Dean spent the day thinking about the possibility of letting someone in. It was just after dark when he decided that he would go back to _Men of Brews_ and see Castiel again. It was time for Dean Winchester to talk to his soulmate.


	4. Chapter 4

Four:

Dean got up early the next morning, charged for the day ahead. He felt determined to be open to the possibility that this guy, Castiel, might actually be his soulmate. Well, _some possibilities_, Dean had never been with a man before. He caught himself beginning to think about the idea around his sophomore year of high school but he had never pursued his interest in the same sex. He wasn’t worried about getting a guy, Dean knew he could with ease, it was what he was going to do with the guy once he got him. 

He walked in the coffee shop just after Jo opened the doors. Dean sat at Castiel’s normal table and waited. He wasn’t sure what time the blue eyed stranger got to the shop every morning but he knew that he was there _every_ morning. As customers began trickling in, Dean scanned the faces, hoping to see Castiel. He practiced in his mind what he would say if the artist did show up. Nothing seemed right as the morning dragged on. Dean looked at the clock behind the counter _9:07 am_. Dean had normally been through here and began working by now. Castiel _definitely_ should’ve shown up by now, unless… A surge of panic began rising in Dean that he didn’t quite understand. _What if he’s straight? What if he doesn’t believe in this soulmate crap and is hunkered down? What if I embarrassed him when I ran off? Shit! Hadn’t thought of that. Real fucking smooth Winchester_. 

Dean ran his hand nervously through his sandy colored hair as he approached the counter. Jo gave him a sour look and opened her mouth to speak but Dean put his hand up to stop her. “I’m a dick, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you ok? But I’m not just here for that. Where’s corner guy? He’s on my apology tour.”

Her features began to relax as she saw how nervous Dean was. “I don’t know, he’s normally here right when we open. Maybe you spilling coffee everywhere scared him off.” 

Dean winced at the thought even though he knew Jo was kidding. “Alright well… if he comes in give him my number will ya?” Dean didn’t wait for a response before he rushed out the door. 

Deciding that the day was a bust, Dean got changed and headed into work. He saw a tall man with chestnut colored hair talking to Bobby. “Sammy?” His younger brother turned around and smiled. “Sonofabitch! What are you doing here? Don’t you have classes to get your degree bitch?” All of the mornings stress evaporated as Dean gave Sam a hug. 

“Just dropped by to check on you jerk.” Sam had grown since Dean had last seen him. He was all grown up now and didn’t look like his kid brother at all. His hair had grown out down to his shoulders and Dean wished he had a pair of clippers handy. Sam’s face was now dotted with a five o’clock shadow. Looking at him, Dean already thought Sammy looked like a lawyer. “Let’s grab a bite. That cool Bobby?”

Bobby stuck his head out from under the hood of the same doomed pickup truck. “Just go ya idjits. I got it from here. But bring me back a burger or there’s gonna be hell to pay! And don’t breathe a _word _of this to your Aunt! She’s got me eatin this _kale _shit and it’s just a crime against humanity!” The boys smiled and promised not to forget as they exited the shop. 

On the drive to the restaurant, Sam filled Dean in on school and life. Only hesitating when Dean asked if he had a girlfriend yet. “Uh, actually yeah, Dean. I uh,” Sam coughed awkwardly. “I met my soulmate Dean.” 

Dean swerved the car in shock, “Holy shit Sammy! When?!” 

“This semester, we met in class actually. It was crazy,” Sam instantly beamed at the thought of his new soulmate. “Her name is Jessica, she’s beautiful Dean.” He paused when he noticed Dean’s grip on the steering wheel. “Are you okay Dean?” 

“What? Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” His scowl giving him away.

“I don’t know, you seem angry.” Sam looked out the window, thinking if how to word his next question. “So, I talked to Bobby about what happened with your…soulmate.” 

Dean scoffed, “My _soulmate_. I haven’t even talked to the guy Sammy. And yeah, I said_ guy_. I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with a guy?” 

Sam smiled, knowing the fact that it was a man would ultimately have nothing to do with it. “Is that really the problem here Dean?” He asked warmly. “I mean, their gender doesn’t matter. It’s your _soulmate_. You’ll figure it out.” 

“I don’t know anymore Sammy. I got the damned tattoo so I wouldn’t have to see or think about this soulmate crap and then this corner guy looks at me in a coffee shop and the date burned through my tattoo. Look.” Dean pulled up his flannel to show Sam his tattoo. “It looks like shit. I spent so much money on the tattoo and now it looks fucking melted. Not to mention, this dude has been in the coffee shop every single day Sammy. This wasn’t some stranger I ran into, I’ve seen him for months. What does that even mean?” 

Sam stayed quiet, letting his brother rant. He was just happy Dean was communicating at all. Sam knew he had to choose his words wisely when talking to Dean. “What do you mean you seen him for months? When did you first actually meet him?” 

Dean held out his arm, “This was our first time _actually _meeting. The first time I saw his entire face. You have no idea how blue his eyes are Sam.” 

Sam hid his smile behind his hand, if Dean was already thinking of his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to fight it for long. “Ok so it still makes sense Dean, get this. He could have been anyone at any time but you never _met _him until the actual date. I’m almost positive it has to do with eye contact. Jessica walked in my class, I noticed her, but she didn’t notice me until class ended. I walked out first and I almost left but I waited, just so I could see her again. I didn’t understand why but when she walked out and I went to say hi, our eyes locked. Within seconds our dates were burning. I didn’t even realize what day it was because I was nervous to start the semester.”

They drove in silence for a bit, Dean in deep thought, Sam letting him think. When Dean parked at the restaurant he didn’t move to get out of the car so neither did Sam. “I don’t want to be like Dad Sammy. I didn’t want a soulmate because I didn’t want to be a disappointment for them. Like Dad was to Mom.” Dean spoke so quietly that if Sam had been distracted he could have missed his words. 

“I’ve thought a lot about that since being away and the thing is, soulmates doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. It’s still a commitment and it still takes work. There’s going to be good times and shitty times but what’s important that our Dad _didn’t_ do is to stay by your soulmates side no matter what. Mom felt alone because he was never there for her. That isn’t you Dean. I know it isn’t, you took care of me when our own Dad wouldn’t. You’re already ten times the man he was. And the fact that you’re even _thinking _about being a better soulmate than he was says a lot. You will be better Dean because you already are better.” 

Dean couldn’t help but smile. Sam knew his words meant a lot but also knew to shut his mouth about it. Sam could tell the moment was over by the look in Dean’s eyes, “Alright alright, enough with the chick flick, let’s eat.” 

After they ate and ordered Bobby’s burger, they drove back to the garage, both men feeling lighter. Dean put on some classic rock and they were both singing Bon Jovi as they pulled in, Bobby walked out shaking his head. “Bon Jovi Dean, really? Didn’t know you were a chick. Where’s my grub?” 

All three laughed before Dean pointed a finger, “Hey old man, Bon Jovi rocks… on occasion.” 

“See you Sunday right? My flight back is Sunday evening, you think you could take me to the airport?” Sam climbed out of Baby and leaned in the window.

Dean rolled his eyes lovingly, “Of course bitch, now back up. I have somewhere I need to be.”

Sam smiled knowingly and stood up, tapping the roof of the car before walking towards Bobby with his doggy bag. 

Dean drove off feeling more confident than he had before, enough fucking around. He needed to talk to corner… to talk to Castiel.


	5. Chapter 5

Five:

Dean’s confidence wavered as he entered the coffee shop. _What if he was there this time? Shit. _

He wasn’t. Dean couldn’t decide if he felt better or worse after that realization. It was a slow hour for Jo so Dean was able to walk straight up to the counter. “Will you _stop_ storming out of here?” Jo said annoyingly. 

Dean was taken aback before deciding to ignore that, “Do you have a paper? I want you to give my number to corner guy.” 

Jo rolled her eyes, “Like I said, if you would stop storming out of here you would know that _Castiel_, lives upstairs.” Jo’s tone softened when she saw the look of terror on Dean’s face. “Look, I’m not giving him your number, just go knock.” 

Dean walked away and took a seat on one of the plush couches, staring out the window. Jo announced she was going on break and went to sit with Dean. Waiting for him to speak first. 

“What do I even say Jo?” Dean spoke without looking at her. 

“That’s a tough one, seeing as I don’t know what the hell happened. But I say you start with a, _Hey, sorry I ran out of here like I was crazy_ or even a, _Hope you got the coffee smell out of your shoes_ would definitely get the conversation rolling.” Jo tired to get a smile out of Dean, failing miserably.

Dean rolled up his sleeve and showed her the date. Her eyes went wide as she gasped. “No freaking way! Corner guy!!” The pieces finally clicking in her head. “But he’s been here for months.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it. Sammy says it didn’t count until we actually _met_. So I guess the rules still apply. But what the fuck do I say!” It wasn’t a question so Jo sat there quietly. After a few moments Dean stood up, unsure if he was about to sprint out the door or finally find the courage to talk to Castiel. Before he could run he asked, “How do I get upstairs?” 

Dean exited the coffee shop in a daze, still unsure of what to say. His inner monologue cut short as he ran straight into his intended. Both men’s eyes widened in panic. Castiel spoke first, “Uh… hello Dean.” _Shit he remembered my name._

“H-hello Castiel. You have a minute?” Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

Cas tilted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion. “Of course.” Cas looked at the stairs he was sure Dean was about to walk up. “Would you like to come up?” 

Dean looked up the stairs and nodded. Chances are his soulmate wasn’t a serial killer so why not.

Dean followed Cas up the narrow steps. He never considered someone actually lived up here and he visited the coffee shop almost daily. When Cas opened the door he blushed slightly. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” He moved aside to let Dean enter, Dean was speechless.

The entire loft was covered in art. Beautiful art and not just portraits of strangers. Cas had canvases of nature, landscapes, animals, you name it, he drew it, all in beautiful shades of grey.

Cas had the nerve to look sheepish. “I don’t bring people up here often, sorry for the mess.” Except there was no mess, just art. His walls were covered and Dean predicted there was at least 50 canvases against the far wall on the floor.

Dean couldn’t help it, he felt like he was in a gallery. He walked around, taking it all in. Dean came across what had to be Cas’ workstation. There was a giant table with every type of pencil and charcoal imaginable, Dean had no clue there were so many types of pencils in the world. Dean didn’t realize he was smiling until he looked over at Cas, who was smiling back. 

Dean approached an easel that was covered with an old sheet, he pointed at it. “Top secret stuff or just a work in progress?”

Cas blushed and ran a hand through his messy dark locks. “Uh…” he cleared his throat, “Both?” He hesitated. “You can look. Just... give me a moment to explain, after.” Cas shoved his hands in his pockets nervously, Dean felt suddenly nervous too. _Explain? Explain what?_

Dean walked over and pulled the sheet off timidly, his jaw dropping open as he stared at himself. “Shit.” Was all that came out of Dean’s mouth.

Cas had captured every single detail. It was still black and white but Cas had attempted to color his eyes in. Dean didn’t realize Cas was standing right next to him until he spoke, “I just can’t get the eyes right.” Dean turned to look at Cas, their eyes locking. Cas spoke in almost a whisper, “No paint can make _that_ green. It’s one of a kind.” 

Cas broke the spell and stepped away, picking up his sketchbook he always had with him and handing it to Dean. He flipped it open to a sketch towards the back. “This piece has taken me the longest, see?” Cas flipped the next few pages of the book to show Dean they were all him. “I just can’t get you right.” Dean smiled at the apparent frustration Cas had, even if he was trying to hide it. “I had never seen your full face and it’s very hard for me to draw someone when I haven’t looked into their eyes. This was the latest one,” Cas flipped to the next page. “It was the day we met. I was able to capture so much more details but it still didn’t suffice, I had to make it bigger.” He motioned to the canvas in front of them. “If you want it when it’s finished, it’s yours. I normally offer them to whoever is in them for free.”

“Free? You don’t sell your art?” Dean was genuinely shocked. 

“No.” Cas took a breath, still watching Dean. “I’ve never tried to sell them.” Cas walked away to take a seat on his bed, allowing Dean to take all the time he wanted to check the place out. When Dean looked at where Cas sat, he noticed a giant mural behind his bed. 

He approached it slowly, taking in every inch. There were angels with dark black wings over his bed, as if they were watching him sleep. The thought made Dean’s eyes water involuntarily, instantly thinking of his mother. Towards the bottom of the wall there was a man in a suit with horns, smirking. The entire mural was drawn in charcoal but it was obvious the sky had clouds and the bottom had flames, the detail was mind blowing. Dean looked at the man sitting on the bed, unable to find words. 

“Should we talk about the coffee shop or just pretend it didn’t happen?” Cas joked nervously and Dean felt relieved by the out he was offering.

Dean felt bold, remembering his brother’s words, “How about we talk about it over dinner?” 

Cas smiled and looked Dean over, “You asked just at the right time, Dean. I’m hungry now.” 

Dean felt his face grow warm as he blushed and the two men walked out the door. An endless future of possibilities before them and Dean looked down at his tattoo, thankful he’d actually found his soulmate after all. 

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

The past nine months had been amazing. Dean couldn’t even remember his doubts anymore. Castiel was everything he ever could have wanted and it turns out, him being a man wasn’t a hindrance at _all._

Cas was a hopeless romantic, he didn’t put out for at least two weeks. Maybe that doesn’t sound like much but they saw each other daily since that first date. 

After some convincing, Cas decided to sell some of his art. It didn’t take long for his name to get out there, Jo even let him start a mural on the side of the coffee shop. He was able to quit his graphic design job and do what made him truly happy. 

Cas moved into Dean’s apartment after a couple months of dating, turning Cas’ loft into a full time art studio. He also fit in perfectly with Dean’s crazy family, neither of them had ever been happier. 

As far as time goes, nine months isn’t a long time but when you know, you know. Not to mention the universe was on their side. 

Dean felt suddenly nervous as he walked up to Cas, “Hey handsome, ready for our date?” Cas smiled, pulling Dean in for a kiss. All of Dean’s doubts fading away. Cas looked beautiful with the sun setting behind him. Dean looked over at the coffee shop, remembering this was where they ran into each other, that day it all began. 

_It's now or never. _

Dean got down on one knee, looking up at his blue eyed angel, “Marry me Cas.” It wasn’t smooth, but that didn’t mean anything to Cas. 

Dean saw tears pool in Cas’ eyes and stood up, laying his forehead against his soulmates. “Yes. Of course Dean.”


End file.
